Sideways Glances
by Scutter
Summary: Kaidan knows Shepard isn't interested. But the heart wants what the heart wants, and if all he can have is sideways glances...
1. Chapter 1 - Sideways Glances

******Sideways Glances**

Pretending that he was disinterested had become an art form. Because it was becoming more and more obvious every day that Shepard was not interested.

He would come by his work station. Make meaningless chat about the mission. How did it go? Shepard was there. He knew how the hell it went. He would ask about Kaidan's past, his time in Baat, his family. Perhaps he shouldn't have mentioned Rahna. It implied he was straight.

He wasn't. Perhaps he had been too young to know what he was, back then. Perhaps he had just liked looking out for someone else.

And then Shepard would go and talk to Liara, in the depths of the medbay, about goodness knows what, but after those talks, Liara always came out smiling.

Fraternization wasn't Shepard's thing, he was fairly sure. Ashley had complained about it on more than one occasion. He knew she had noticed the serious, brooding side to their commander, knew that she had fantasized about taking things further… but it seemed every time she turned around, the Commander was merely calling her out on questioning his authority, chewing her out over her distrust of the aliens. No, Ashley could not catch a break, that was for sure.

But then again, neither could he.

Was it because Liara wasn't Alliance? Regs didn't apply to aliens. Was it because she was female? Or, as female as an asari got. He'd heard her speeches on being 'mono-gendered', and didn't quite buy it. Or was it because she was an alien? Did Shepard have a kink along those lines?

However the odds stacked up, they were not in Kaidan's favour.

Regardless of the fact that he got taken on almost every mission the Commander went on. He was a medic. And a biotic. And with Garrus as their third, they were damned near unstoppable.

Until they'd had to go up against the rogue VI on the moon, and they'd been pinned in a corner, rocket drones firing rapidly, their shields taking a pounding…

He'd never seen shooting like that, had marveled at the way Shepard had taken out the drones… until he'd realised that his Commander had taken a serious hit to the chest and was bleeding profusely…

Garrus had taken out the remaining VI nodes while Kaidan had tried to slow the bleeding. They'd half-dragged, half-carried Shepard back to the Mako, then Kaidan had prayed like hell to a god he wasn't sure he believed in that Shepard would make it back to the Normandy.

Chakwas had worked a miracle, that day. And less than 24 hours later, Shepard was back in the CIC, demanding updates, tracking their progress, discussing important missions with Pressly.

Despite Chakwas's increasingly urgent pleas that he get some rest and stop aggravating his wounds.

And then he'd come by Kaidan's work station, and said "Hell of a ride," and Kaidan had had to work hard to keep from calling Shepard twelve kinds of fucking asshole and begging him to never, ever do that again.

Instead, he'd shrugged, and told him that "It got a little tight, back there," as if his Commander nearly dying was no big deal, nothing to get excited about.

And then Shepard had given him a look. Hard to say what it was, exactly. And Kaidan thought maybe he was about to get called out on his bullshit.

But then Shepard had said something about checking on Garrus, and had walked away.

And it was a minor relief that he hadn't been going to check on Liara.

But Kaidan couldn't help but watch the Commander as he headed for the elevator. His stride was sure and even. His back was straight. His head was held high.

And damn if he didn't have the finest ass in the whole of the Alliance…

But Kaidan would only ever get to see it via sideways glances, split seconds snatched when his back was turned, never an honest gaze, never speaking the words to back up the desire that he tried so hard to hide.

And then…

And then they went to Virmire.

And Shepard chose him above Ashley. Chose that Ashley should die. Chose that he should live.

And after the dust had settled, Shepard wasn't with Liara, wasn't licking his wounds, so to speak, with the asari 'female' whose eyes followed Shepard like the proverbial puppy, free from the constraints of gender and protocol that bound Kaidan as surely as a straight jacket.

No, Shepard was alone in his cabin. And, when Kaidan finally dared to knock on the door, he discovered that he was sitting slumped in a seat, head in his hands. And Shepard's gaze flickered up at him. A sideways glance that was merely to confirm what he already knew. Kaidan stood at attention, wanting to say something helpful, something to ease the guilt and pain and uncertainly in his commanding officer's posture… but was too bound by protocol to get the words out.

"Sit down," Shepard said hoarsely. And Kaidan did.

Silence. And when Kaidan risked a brief, sideways glance at Shepard, he was shocked to discover that the Commander was watching him with open longing.

At least, it looked like longing. Perhaps it was simply grief. Despair at the loss of yet another life to this escalating battle…

"Sir?" He was fairly sure his mask had cracked, his concern for Shepard leaking through like air through fractured armour in the vacuum of space…

"There's something I've been meaning to talk to you about," Shepard said, finally breaking the stare, looking down at the grey, blank floor. "Correct me if I'm out of line. But… I've noticed the way you look at me…"


	2. Chapter 2 - Sidelong Looks

**Sidelong Looks**

Sideways glances. From Liara. Tinged with jealousy and a touch of confusion. She had been told that humans chose partners of the opposite gender. So Kaidan's attachment to Shepard makes no sense – even less sense than the concept of gender in the first place. And that Shepard returns that attachment? Liara licks her wounds in private, so perhaps they will never know how she really feels. But she fights just as hard. Maybe even harder. Unleashes biotic storms to destroy their enemies and ensure the Commander returns safely at the end of each mission. She is young. But also old, beyond her years. That is the effect that war has on all of them.

Sidelong looks. From Garrus. He's been wondering about the changes in Shepard lately, the eagerness to return to his quarters at the end of a mission, rather than hanging out in a bar on the citadel, or shoot the breeze in the cargo bay. And he knows Kaidan has something to do with it, but turians don't do same-sex relationships – the concept simply hasn't occurred to them, so he is intrigued, but mystified. Camaraderie, perhaps? Some human-human bond he has yet to learn about? Of course, there are rumours of something more intimate, but the descriptions make no sense to a turian. Two males just can't do that. Can they?

Smirks, caught just in the corner of his eye, from Joker. He knows, of course he does. He knows everything that goes on in this ship, from when the meals are served, to who's taking a shower longer than the regulation 3 minutes, to why Wrex had that collection of dried pyjack feet stuffed in his locker. But he's too busy being privately amused about the resident boy-couple to bother saying anything in public. Watching them trip over themselves around each other and try to stop sticking their feet in their mouths. Or perhaps he's finally developed a sense of decorum. No. That would be too much to ask for.

Complete indifference from Wrex. He's got bigger things on his mind. And human relationships are of no interest to him.

It's hard to know what Tali thinks. Behind that colored face-plate, she is silent on the topic. But she makes time to talk to Shepard, private conversations in the corner of the engineering room. And perhaps she has some good advice. After all, she's entirely too familiar with the desire for intimacy, while practical limits prevent it. And Shepard comes to him, afterwards, that heart-breaking almost-smile bleeding through the worry lines and battle scars. God, he loves Tali.

Consternation, tinged with disapproval from Pressly. Breaking regulations, compromising squad moral, the barely acknowledged question of whether Ashley's death had anything to do with _this_. It didn't, but since the question is never voiced, it can never be answered. Kaidan spends his free time in the mess. It's easier than avoiding the non-questions that Pressly refuses to ask, as bound by regulations and the chain of command as Kaidan once was.

Anderson seems oblivious when he checks in with Shepard. Assigns them to a new task, now that Saren is defeated. Investigate disappearing ships. Rumors of geth involvement. A tough assignment. Uncertainty. More questions. More confusion. No clear answers. Remains oblivious, when Shepard's eyes slide sideways to meet Kaidan's, to express forbidden doubts and seek comfort for swiftly-denied fears.

Tonight, they will comfort each other with words and touches and emotions, locked in the safety of Shepard's cabin. But for now, they make do with sidelong looks, much to the amusement and the confusion of a motley, courageous, and heart-wrenchingly loyal crew.


	3. Chapter 3 - Grief

Grief

It had been four weeks since he got home. Six, since the Alliance ship had picked them up from their escape pods, patched up wounds, declared Shepard dead.

Oh, god, Shepard was dead.

It was official now.

So many members of the crew lost, injured, despairing.

What was he supposed to do? Comfort a krogan? Did Wrex even grieve? He didn't seem to. He maintained a respectful quietness around the rest of the crew, but made no displays of what humans would recognise as grief.

Garrus had performed a turian funeral rite, before they had dropped him off on Palaven. It has seemed a beautiful and intricate thing, even if Kaidan hadn't understood the details and nuances.

Liara… god knew what she was thinking, and Kaidan had to admit that he didn't really care. She'd followed Shepard around like a lost puppy, even while the ship around them burned. Didn't she realise that he was the captain? He couldn't leave until everyone else had. So get the fucking crew into the escape pods, and you're saving Shepard's life right there…

Tali had cried. He really liked Tali. They'd sat together in a quiet corner of the ship and she'd complained about the mess inside her helmet from her tears, and Kaidan had let his own tears fall, grateful for company as miserable as himself. In the nicest possible way, of course.

Joker… He hated Joker. Trying to save a ship, at the expense of Shepard's life? A hunk of twisted metal and minerals, no matter how well designed, versus a living, breathing beacon of light in the galaxy? The only reason he had kept his feelings to himself was because he had the idle notion that Shepard had respected Joker's decision. He didn't believe that old tripe of 'Shepard would have wanted them to get along'. Shepard didn't want anything. Shepard was dead.

But Joker? The fucking bastard deserved to have every bone in his body broken. It wouldn't be a difficult job, either. The thought brought a grim, maudlin chuckle to Kaidan's lips, that cracked and ended on a sob.

Shepard was dead.

How was he supposed to live with that?

And so now he haunted his parents' house. Ate the food his mother put in front of him, forcing it down only through years of refined discipline. Stared out over the bay for hours on end. Made coffee that he never got around to drinking, lost in thought as the steam wafted towards the ceiling and the cup cooled in his hands.

His father understood. Losing a CO – especially one who garnered as much respect as Shepard had – was like losing a limb. He brought Kaidan whiskey and sat beside him, condolences shared through silent company. His mother didn't quite get it, thought it was like losing a boss at work. Her grasp of the concept simply fell short, and she tended to leave him alone, unsure what to say, and uncomfortable with the silence.

They had gotten a dog, sometime in his absence, a tan colored mongrel with a kind face and long hair. She would come and put her chin on Kaidan's knee, and he'd have to fight back tears as she looked up at him with soft, mournful eyes.

He couldn't read, the words blurring somewhere between the page and his mind. He couldn't work – not much need for it anyway, since he was on compassionate leave at the moment. He chopped wood for his parents, filling the woodshed in preparation for the coming winter. It was repetitive, numbing work that kept his body occupied while his mind was elsewhere. Back on a ship that was burning. Back in a bed with a warm body beside his own. Back in uniform, saluting a young, cocky commander for the first time, before their mission started and the whole galaxy went to hell.

He lay in bed at night, the sheets cool against his body… then warmer, as he lay still, barely breathing, limp and mournful.

He closed his eyes. Remembered the way Shepard's skin felt against his own. Remembered his scent, husky murmurs in his ear, the calluses on his fingers, the touch of rough stubble against his cheek.

Remembered the taste of him, both above, and below.

And unbidden, his hand stole downwards, into his own briefs. And he imagined someone else's hand, firm and callused and slightly larger than his own, so eager to wring cries of pleasure from him.

There was no pleasure, now. Only the echo of better times. Strokes of misery, not joy.

His body tensed, gave up its essence, leaving his soul empty and his mind in turmoil. Guilt fluttered at the edges of his vision, as he gave himself up to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4 - Paralysed

Paralysed

Kaidan watched as the Collectors gathered the bodies of those around him. Susan. Rajesh. Mary-Anne. People he had been getting to know, some more reluctant than others. Good, honest people, trying to make a living on Horizon. Trying to make a life. People with children. Children who were now captives of the collectors.

He fought against the paralyzing toxin he had been injected with. His body felt cold, wooden, refusing to respond to his demands that his fingers move, that his legs lift his feet from the ground.

The Collectors filled their coffin-like pods with the latest victims and retreated, leaving the remaining colonists for the next load. Kaidan waited, struggled, hoped that the toxin would wear off soon. Or he would soon be inside one of those pods himself.

Minutes dragged by. And still he couldn't move. They would be back soon. He'd seen the massive ship land, visible in the corner of his vision. They'd be back to collect him and the rest of the colonists, that fucking defense gun useless against them without its targeting system working properly. Did that make this his fault, for not getting the thing working properly?

God, to have it all end like this… Regrets ran thick through his mind, all the things he had wanted to do, imagined he would do with his life. A lot of those dreams had died along with Shepard, two years ago, and despite the persistent rumors that he was alive, Kaidan didn't dare hope too much. Desperate people would tell all manner of crazy stories, and any rogue human merc, given the right attitude and confidence, could start rumors of a legend returned from the dead. He wouldn't believe idle rumors. Didn't want to believe them. Didn't want to remember that voice, those vivid blue eyes, that come-hither stare. Couldn't bear to remember the feel of warm skin against his own…

…and it was taking an awfully long time for the Collectors to come back. Not that he was eager for them to return, but what was taking so long?

Gunfire! An explosion, off to his left, out of his line of sight. What was going on? He tried to move again, failed, wished he could at least curse at his failure, but not even his lips would move to mouth the words. Had something interrupted the Collectors? And was it friend, or foe?

Then he saw something moving at the edge of his vision. Something… red? And something else, blue. What was that? Not Collectors. Had some of the colonists escaped? If so, they should stay in the shelters! There were still a few of the large, insect-like creatures flying around…

A turian! He would have sworn that was a turian, getting just a split second's clear look at the person's head. Had the council finally started taking the threats seriously? Or were they perhaps mercs, or pirates, come to loot an already devastated colony?

He tried to tell himself to wait patiently for another glimpse, a futile exercise given that he was paralysed, and doing anything other than waiting was impossible anyway.

Yes, there it was, movement! The shape of a pair of legs beneath the prefabs. A second, definitely turian, and a third, human, or perhaps asari, like the first pair had been.

More gunfire, then shouting, just too far away to make out the words. More struggling… and his finger moved. He could feel it, slow, cold, a faint tingling sensation. He kept flexing his finger, trying to get a second digit involved, even as he kept his eyes peeled for the elusive trio, perhaps rescuers, perhaps enemies. But if they had interrupted the Collector's mission, then they were welcome here!

The figures stepped into view again, paused… just on the edge of his vision. He tried to turn his head and failed, concentrated on the shapes, blurred as they were. A human. Not blue enough to be asari. A turian, taller than the others, that distinctive shape encased in blue armor. And a figure in white. Not clear what species that one was.

And then he saw Collectors, moving in around them. He wished he could shout a warning, wished his slowly flexing finger was closer to his own gun's trigger. Then the three figures scattered, guns firing rapidly, the blue surge of biotics obvious even from his dubious vantage point. A brief battle, then the trio regrouped, further into his line of sight…

Shepard.

Kaidan felt his heart leap into his throat and he pinned his gaze on that tall, straight, confident figure. Good god, it was Shepard. And Garrus. And another human woman. Shepard! His hand clenched into a fist, but would move no further. Shepard…

He was alive. And fighting Collectors.

Then they were gone, slinking away around the prefabs and then more gunfire filled the eerie silence. Kaidan's neck loosened up, letting him turn his head a few degrees. Please, don't let Shepard leave without the chance to talk to him… Two years. Two years of grief and guilt and mourning… How the fuck was he even alive? Adrenaline was pumping through him now, his heart racing, his body as immobile as ever.

The sounds of battle drifted towards him from further away. An extensive battle. Well, that explained why the Collectors hadn't returned. They were busy fending off Commander fucking Shepard. And if he hadn't seen them take a dozen of his friends and comrades, he might have even felt sorry for them.

Waiting was torture. More fighting… and then the BOOM-BOOM of the Guardian lasers. Shepard had the defense towers online! Then a huge blast, a light filling the sky, and the Collector ship lifted into the air… as Kaidan's legs finally began to respond. He straightened, stiff and cold, shifting one foot sluggishly in front of the other. Headed straight in the direction of the latest battle, abandoning the remaining colonists around him, as they slowly started moving.

He got closer as his body warmed up and started responding properly. He heard voices, a man, a woman… and Shepard. There was Shepard's voice, strong and firm and sexy as hell… God, had it really been two years? It seemed like only yesterday he had held the man, kissed him, watched those lips issuing sharp commands and longed to feel them on his skin. He didn't know what to feel, urging his body to move faster. Longing, to recapture the past. Anger, at not having been told he was alive. Fear, that he would disappear again, that this would all turn out to be a dream, a hallucination.

And then he could finally make out the words, recognised Delan's voice. "Shepard. Wait, I know that name. Sure, I remember you. You're some type of big alliance hero."

"Commander Shepard," Kaidan said, walking forward, heart in his throat. "Captain of the Normandy, the first human spectre, Savior of the Citadel. You're in the presence of a legend, Delan. And a ghost…"


	5. Chapter 5 - Peripheral Vision

Peripheral Vision

Shepard's POV

I sit across from him in the mess, food an excuse to linger in his presence. I stow my armor in my locker more slowly than I used to, unwilling to leave the shuttle bay before he does, unable to deny myself those few extra moments standing beside him. I spend time thinking of idle things to say to him should we pass in the halls, banter about James' poker skills or EDI's new body. (I kick myself for not warning him about that one…) I find him in the starboard observation lounge. Reading, researching, writing reports. We exchange a few words about the latest mission, then I head back to the CIC.

It's not enough. I want to tell him I still love him, despite what he said on Mars, on Horizon. I want to kiss him, feel his body against mine, know that there's one thing in this god forsaken galaxy that still makes sense. The air smells different in his presence. Fresher. Cleaner. The room seems lighter, and even if it's just my imagination, the respite from the darkness and stench of the war gives me hope and strength again, if only for the next mission, the next 24 hours.

We chat about the Cerberus scientists, his conscience once again making for deep thoughts and lingering worries. God, I love that about him. He never just takes the easy answers. He didn't when I shot Udina. He didn't when I chose to save his life over Ashley's. He didn't when Cerberus brought me back from the dead.

Okay, so he apologised for what he'd said on Horizon, sent me a letter that had my heart in my throat as I wondered whether I should respond, or just let it lie. I was likely to die in the mission to the collector base. Somehow, I had thought that leaving things angry would make it easier on him than promising a future that might never happen. But even through all that, he never changed his mind about Cerberus, never gave in to that lie just to make peace with me.

He's never taken the easy option.

So I watch him now. He comes on missions, biotics devastating our enemies, mind analyzing mission parameters on the fly, fearless as he leaps from the shuttle into swarms of husks.

But I can only watch him in my peripheral vision, gun focused on our targets, mind focused on the next mission, the next day, the next battle and the hope that it will win us some ground against the reapers.

But I watch him. That blue glow around him that sets my heart racing. That husky voice that stirs up such longing, for things lost, and for things that I hope are still to come.

But I get no hint from him whatsoever that he's interested in more. I've tried flirting, awkward and out of practice. I had to hide the picture I had of him in my cabin once he started coming up for visits, talks. But the first time he came in, it was still sitting there, front and centre on the desk, and though he never said anything about it, I'm sure he saw it there.

He saw it. And he never said anything about it.

It's hidden in a drawer now, out of sight, but I still take it out at night and look at it, when I can't look at the man himself.

I imagine him, lying beside me in bed, the way he used to on the SR-1. Shit, I miss that ship. If only for the memories of him lying next to me.

And then we're having another brief chat in the lounge, his mind on his students, his family, while I remind myself that I no longer have the right to press him up against the glass and make him see stars – of the metaphorical variety, rather than the ones hanging outside the window.

He comes into the CIC sometimes. And no matter what I'm doing, I always know he's there. Like a guardian angel, keeper of my heart, my sanity, my hope.

He's invited me out to lunch, and I know better than to hope it's anything more than what it seems. He's had plenty of opportunities to say how he feels, plenty of private moments away from prying eyes. He's never said anything about wanting more.

But hope remains, hovering in my peripheral vision.


	6. Chapter 6 - Not Enough

Not Enough

There is never enough time in the day any more. 24 hours, crammed full of meetings, fights, the slow drudgery of cleaning blood off armour and skin, the pale snap of unconsciousness that they like to pretend is sleep, shoveling food down one's throat to keep the body running like a machine that runs on autopilot. There's not even time to worry, any more. Doubts are crammed into the minutes that the shuttle hovers above an LZ. Reflection is the panicked thoughts that flit through one's head on the way from the war room to the cockpit.

There is never enough time.

And so the time he spends with Kaidan feels stolen, illicit, moments when he could be planning strategy or anticipating the reapers' next move, but instead, he's feeding his addiction for warm skin and husky words, a wet mouth and heated pleasure. And there is no greater pleasure in the world than hearing Kaidan moan, that husky voice ending on a gasp, letting Shepard know that he's heading rapidly down the path to satisfying his lover once again, a rush that makes him feel ten feet tall and capable of taking down a reaper single handedly.

His own orgasm is powerful, but hardly satisfying, as it signals the end of their stolen time together, the end of warm skin against his own, the end of pretending that there's more to life that fighting and blood and fear.

They don't linger in bed afterwards. There's no time. Rare is the day when they get a full hour to themselves. Most days it's only twenty minutes, and ten of those stolen from the time they should have been asleep. They dress, still short of breath, still exchanging lingering glances of lust and longing and regret that this couldn't have lasted longer, that they couldn't have spent the whole night in each other's arms. Looks of fear, that this will be the last time.

Kaidan heads for the door, no words necessary to explain his hasty departure. He has to follow up a lead on his father's whereabouts, while Shepard has to call Hackett on the comm and get an update on the crucible. But he only makes it to the fish tank. And then he's pinned against the cool glass, Shepard's mouth on his own, a hitch in his breath speaking the fears that he would never voice in the cold light of day.

Shepard pulls back, not able to meet his eyes, not able to acknowledge the fear openly, lest it paralyze him, to the detriment of the war.

"I love you," Kaidan says, breaking the unspoken agreement. He tilts Shepard's head up, meets his gaze firmly. "I love you. And no fucking reaper is getting in the way of that." It's idealistic nonsense. The reapers have already come between them, and probably will again. But the point, Kaidan has realised, is that they must never admit defeat. Life – their life – goes on.

He kisses Shepard again, and then he's gone, out the door.


	7. Chapter 7 - Quiet

Quiet

For so long, there has been a terrible cacophony in his head. The screams of the dead. The whispers of mistakes. The laughter of comrades, the quiet rustle of doubts. Plans, strategies, contingencies, all fighting for air time, all pestering him, wanting to be voiced, wanting action. And along with the voices in his head were the real live voices of a billion people. Politicians, councilors, crew members, friends, enemies. The voice of Leviathan, the voice of Harbinger, of Sovereign, of the Illusive Man. Even in his alone-time, the voices kept on at him, vids, messages, little chirps on his omni-tool, reports to be filed, questions to be answered.

Noise.

Everywhere.

All the time.

* * *

But now there is silence. Shepard lies still in the ruins of the Citadel. The Catalyst is dead. The Illusive Man is dead. Anderson is dead.

Kaidan is dead. He died on the final run to the beam, caught in the reaper's laser.

There is nothing left to live for, but not due to any hopeless despair. There is nothing left to live for because he has done everything there was to be done. He's filed all the reports. He's made all the speeches. He's fought every last enemy, and won. He has loved, and lost, and loved again.

He has finished.

So now, he lies in the ruins, still, quiet. The voices have all gone, now. The living have their own problems to deal with. The dead hear the bell that tolls, knowing that he will join them soon.

There is nothing left to do.

And finally, after so long, after so much noise…

Finally, it is quiet.


	8. Chapter 8 - Reunions

Reunions

Control. Synthesis. Destroy.

Destroy. That's what he had been sent to do. To end a billion year old mistake. So he chose destroy with hardly a second thought. Godforsaken AI could burn in hell for what it had done.

He remembered shooting the power conduit. The explosion, engulfing his entire body, burning through his skin, his bone, right through to his soul…

And then there was silence. Peace. Light, a soft, warm light that soothed his body… his body? He didn't have a body any more. It had been burned up…

He opened his eyes… Oh. He was dead.

The beach was long, white sand meeting turquoise waves in an endless stretch… and, this being the afterlife, Shepard was quite sure that it did, in fact, go on forever.

But behind the beach was a strip of green, palm trees, undergrowth, birds calling and shrubs with flowers in a multitude of colors, and he felt drawn to it, inward, upward, into the dim interior and the heat and scent…

Along a short track through the undergrowth, he came upon a clearing, a resort, of sorts, with cabanas and groups of people, all species, the ones he knew, and several he had never seen before. And good God, there was a bar after all. The bartender was a grinning asari, and he dashed forward, looking eagerly for a familiar face…

"Shepard." He spun around… and there he was. Garrus, minus the armor, looking relaxed, if a little perplexed, two beers on the table in front of him. Shepard approached him, half nervous, half disbelieving.

"You're really here?"

"I ran afoul of a marauder with good aim. I don't have any regrets, but somehow I had thought heaven wouldn't have quite so much…"

"So much what?"

"Water. Waking up on the beach… I though I was in hell, to begin with. And then Thane came and found me, told me that the water was only part of the story, necessary for the hanar and various other species – humans seem particularly fond of it, even if they're not naturally water-dwellling – but that there were other hotter, drier places for other species. So I came here. And what do you know? There's the bar."

Shepard couldn't keep the grin off his face. He sat down, took a sip of his beer… and wow, that was good. He sighed, sat back… then frowned. There was something missing here.

"Did anyone else…?"

"I only got here a few minutes ago," Garrus admitted. "Haven't had a chance to look around. But I thought I'd wait a while and see if you showed up." His face turned serious for a moment. "The reapers?"

"Dead," Shepard said, and somehow, he knew it was true. "We won."

"About time."

Something bright and shiny skittered across Shepard's vision, in the corner of his eye… and he turned his head, but saw nothing. He turned back to Garrus and they sat in silence for a time, watching the trees sway in the breeze, the passers by laughing and chatting, multitudes of children playing and running about. An asari girl head-butted a krogan youth, then ran away laughing, and the krogan followed, yelling for her to come back and fight properly.

"EDI's dead," he said at length. "When the crucible fired, it was going to kill all synthetic life."

"You think she'll show up here?" Garrus asked, hopeful, but not particularly optimistic.

"If she doesn't, I'm going to be having words with whoever is in charge," Shepard promised, an edge to his voice.

"I saw Tali go down," Garrus admitted, when their glasses were empty. "Not sure if she died. I'm not sure if it's impolite to hope she'd dead, but I'd really like to see her, if she's here." He knocked on the table, and the glasses were full again.

"That's a handy trick," Shepard noted, and Garrus grinned.

"This is heaven. Or what the Turians call Galarta."

"And what about turian hell?"

"It's called Himista. It's a place full of water and giant monsters with seventeen tentacles."

"Our hell is full of fire, where humans are tortured for all the evil they did. It's ruled by bipedal creatures with horns."

More silence, as they drank their beer. And Shepard once again had the feeling that something was missing. A shimmering light flittered at the edges of his vision, and he turned his head. But there was nothing there.

"Do you think the others made it?"

"Liara's alive," Garrus said. "I'm sure of it. And Traynor. I talked to the bartender earlier. She said she'd never heard of Traynor, and most people who had just arrived came through this way."

"She knows who's here?" Shepard asked, then dismissed the question even before Garrus had answered it. Of course she knew who was here. He got up. "I just have to go ask her something," he said, and Garrus nodded.

"Excuse me," he said, as he arrived at the bar. "I'm looking for someone. I'm not sure if he's arrived yet, but maybe you've heard about him?"

The bartender smiled at him. "If he's here, I'm sure to hear about it. What's his name?"

"Kaidan."

There was that shimmering light in the corner of his eye again, and he turned his head. But there was nothing there.

"Are you alive?" she asked, and Shepard frowned.

"What's that got to do with anything?"

"Sometimes people have trouble letting go of the before-life. It makes things here difficult to understand."

"I'm dead. I mean, I died in the… the before-life, as you call it."

"And Kaidan? Is he dead?"

"Yes. I saw him die."

"Then there's your problem."

"What?"

"You think you're dead," the asari said. "And you'll never find Kaidan for as long as you believe he is also dead. So let me ask you again. Are you alive?"

Shepard thought about that. "I don't know. Am I?"

The asari smiled. "You can eat. Drink. Talk. Meet with old friends. Is that life?"

"Yes," Shepard answered. "I suppose it is."

"Then you are alive."

"And is Kaidan alive?"

The asari looked over to her left, at something out of Shepard's line of sight… and he turned his head, seeing a figure shimmering with light. It walked towards him… and as it got closer, the light faded and cleared, leaving him a clear picture of…

Heart in his throat, Shepard dashed across the courtyard, dodging children, weaving around tables, and patrons got out of his way as he threw himself into Kaidan's arms. Arms that caught him firmly, pulled him close, held him tight. Tears filled his eyes as he clung tightly.

"Kaidan…" His throat was tight, Kaidan's arms holding him up as he sagged against a firm, warm body, as solid as it had ever been in the before-life.

"You're late," Kaidan said, laughter in his voice.

"You're here," Shepard said in relief. "You made it."

Kaidan grinned. "James is around somewhere, but he wanted to go exploring. Said there'd be plenty of time to drink cerveza later."

Shepard patted Kaidan's arms, his shoulders, his face. "You're really here."

"Where else would I be?"

"Garrus is at the bar," Shepard said, ignoring the question. "He'd love to see you."

But then Kaidan saw something over Shepard's shoulder… and that handsome face broke into a wide grin. "Looks like someone else decided to show up as well," he said. Shepard turned around…

And there, walking up the path from the beach, was a pale blue, mechanized body. EDI was staring at her hands in consternation, flexing her fingers, moving her arms…

Tears burst from her eyes, her face full of wonder as she looked up to see Shepard and Kaidan coming towards her.

"I can feel the wind," she said, astonishment in her voice. "I feel warm. I feel… joy. I am alive."

"Yes," Shepard agreed. "Yes, you are."


End file.
